


Singing about how I miss you.

by Booze_Hound



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Experiments in writing, Gen, This Story is over., You hear me?, no continuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booze_Hound/pseuds/Booze_Hound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a sad little ficlet.</p>
<p>Written because I wanted to<br/> A. Try writing a sadfic without dumping angst all over it and filling it with whiny people,<br/> B. Experiment with writing,<br/> C. And because I feel a certain city needs more depth than the few places we've seen in-universe (no pun intended)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing about how I miss you.

Singing about how I Miss you

Just a Drabble.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When I visited a bar, I took it upon myself to avoid the crowded streets and boulevards of the city.

So naturally, I visited a small one near the southern docks. 

It was small enough that if you weren't looking for it you would never find it, yet still big enough that you wouldn't feel cramped. The fluorescent bulbs flickered in a strange play of light and shadow, blinking on and off at seemingly random times. The air hung thick with the smells of humanity; of grease, thick and oily as the usual patrons. Of tears, long reminders of the telltale sadness that always accompanied life.

When we spoke, he mentioned a third; the faintest scent of berry, of regret and hope laced with the venom of memory.

It not being the season of tourism and it definitely not being the fishing season, I was the lone patron. A spindly old man polished glasses on the other side of the counter. Sipping at a slightly stale beer, I allowed the sounds of the sea to drown everything else out. After an indeterminate amount of time, the door slid open and another patron came in. He was overweight and balding, bearded and sunburned, and smelled of car wax and the sun. "Hey Tony," He asked,"do you think I can use your stage?". The old bartender nodded his consent, and dropped below the counter, leaving me and the man alone. Despite feeling the need to leave, to leave these two to their ritual, I stayed because I wanted to see the spectacle. Slowly but surely, the stage came to life; first in its speakers , and last in it's lights

He climbed up the stage he knew (or as he told me, used to know) so very well. 

He tells me he steeled himself,how he remembered how it felt on that night, how the gentleness of each note he sang screamed volumes of how he felt, how he let the melody convince her to choose to stay with him. He tells me how made his way toward the mike slowly, and in his step you could see his nervousness and the telltale sign of panic that stood across from the pure resolve that he had to muster. 

When he stood in front of the mike, he boomed in a extremely cheery voice his introduction, which he tells me was one of his favorite parts and was what he repeated all throughout his years. And when he sang, in my opinion, he sounded like a screaming badger. 

But you could feel the love in his voice, the tenderness of each note. 

So after he sang, I decided to ask about why he sang. He looked at me dumbly and said "to make people happy?". I changed my question to ask who inspired him. He shook his head. "Well, I'd have to say my son! He's the best son anyone can have!" And we talked.

And talked.

And I learned more.

I learned about him, and he learned about me. He told me about how he met his wife in this very bar, how he was stunned by her immaculate beauty. "Her hair was pinker than bubblegum," he began, "and when she smiled you could feel the world become happier. Her laugh was like the dawn: it always brightened up your day" he smiled a little at the fond memory. ". When I asked what happened to her, his smile abruptly disappeared, and I knew I pushed too far. I said my excuses, I paid for my beer, and I left.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, How was it?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed your stay.
> 
> Please drop a comment describing how I can improve and not one about me continuing this.
> 
> Because I wont.


End file.
